Month: November 2018

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Life Amongst Memories

I

Tumbling through my phone
I notice that Jamie Bloom
is still listed amongst my favorites
and I realize it’s been more than a year
since I’ve seen her.

The realization is somewhat jarring
but I choose to smile as I look back
on a year that was some kind of trial by fire;
August in one year, October the next.

“Do you have a worksheet?” I ask Anna,
who tells me that I’m six steps ahead of her,
just like Jamie used to do!

II

I jot these things down in my notebook
on October 9, 2018,
but when I transcribe them to this work,
it’s more than a month later
and when I search to spell her name correctly
I find video message
singing amongst sleeping cables
and smile for all those she’s likely to help
save themselves.

Written by Jason Wright
October 9 & November 29, 2018

For Jamie, obviously,
but also for my selves
and for Anna.

It was a tricky year
but we made it!

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Pyre for the Soul

Sunny November
by gray clouds divided

Transport through city
in which she resided

Curtained car window
hides salt of New Jersey

Uncertain widow
denies fault of fury

As light traces leaves
between skin and desire

The recently grieved
believes she’s on fire.

Written by Jason Wright
November 29, 2018

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“De-crucify the Angel.”

Scott Weiland sings to me
in performance once dedicated
by Michigan Bryan
years before his building caught on fire
and Scott Weiland had died.

The Weiland ghost does not understand,
continuously encouraging me to
watch Lost in Space on his television,
which makes me smile
the saddest of sad smiles.

One charming copy
of a beautiful dead man’s soul
does not resurrect
all the beauty we have lost.

Written by Jason Wright
November 29, 2018

For Bryan Alfaro, who introduced me to
Scott Weiland’s “Barbarella” in a most appreciated fashion.

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The Underland Bathhouse de Jour

Beneath the great city
lies curious Underland,
Where the man on the train
takes up three seats
with unabashed manspread…

He’s not unattractive
if I squint
with his head between his knees
in relaxed, if awkward pose.

Why does my brain
always sexualize everything?

Oh. Right. I’m a dude.
Sometimes I forget.

In my sex starved brain
he’s a nameless bathhouse hookup:
“Lose the towel.”

  • But wait! – The way still life subject
    just crossed his legs
    is decidedly GAY
    and I realize the object of my fantasy
    is actually cruising me,
    even as he clears his throat
    near mid Central Park
    and his bathhouse counterpart
    spreads himself open
    to receive the affections
    which his flesh and blood inspiration
    would clearly choose to enact. Only this man is taken
    and White Rabbit late.

    Written by Jason Wright
    November 29, 2018
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The Transcendental Purgation of Christian De Gré’s Wallet

Here are the words
of this object’s confession:

I’ve spent a great deal
of time pressed against Heaven.

But being so close
when denied holy union.

Was torture at worst
and at best just confusion.

I thought to be free
would release me from Hell.

But the Devil arrived
and enlightened my cell.

As he retched me free of
true Heaven’s embrace.

I found Hell was Heaven with my Hell replaced
by actual suffering; actual pain…

He showed me my torment
had been my own shame.

My own unacceptance
denied my admittance.

My disillusionment
blinded by brilliance.

My savior was there with me
there all the time.

But I failed to see
and denied him three times.

So Devil came calling
and caused my catharsis.

The damned saved my soul
when I saw light in darkness.

And burned in the bright
of that unholy day…

I learned what is right
and yearned not to stray…

Burned by transgression
and melted like chocolate…

Returned to the Heaven
of Christian’s back pocket.

Written by Jason Wright
November 29, 2018

For Christian De Gré’s wallet,
you lucky bastard.

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Wrong Head Denied

You were lost in the dark
and I sounded absurd.

Exhausted remarks
left you feeling unheard.

I swear that I heard you
and I feel regret.

I’m aware I deferred you
and caused our upset.

My only defense
is a timeless cliché.

My lonely pretense
is a rhymeless betrayal
of love and of care but
was truly attraction:

Thought overwhelmed
by the prime crime of passion.

Written by Jason Wright
November 29, 2018

For Aaron

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Shrouded Enlightenment

Strike the match.
Strike that.
Strike up the band
and burn us to the ground.

Listen to nothing.
Listen to no one.

The deaf,
moved by deepest vibrations,
rise up to meet us
betwixt silence and cacophony;
teaching us how to feel
and interpret the words
they can’t hear
but feel with a depth
which we sometimes lack.

We are blind
and struggle –
reaching out to recognize
the face of reality –
the face of the universe –
inverse infinity –
infinite perversions of intended design.

Revelation yearned for
is as momentous as imagined…
if only for moments
which we believe were imaginary.

Written by Jason Wright
November 29, 2018

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Toy Soldiers

The boredom of youth
relieved by seduction –
no love or lust;
just blissful destruction –
just practice;
no hardship;
no need for regret –
just beautiful lips
of boys he’ll forget.

Beautiful boys
together in boredom –
the time of their lives
in self enslaved whoredom –
beautiful boys
who’ll one day be men –
who dreamed they were toys
when they would be again.

Written by Jason Wright
November 29, 2018

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Today’s Pithy Mantra

A new direction
to an old destination,

A true connection
devoid of sensation
response to divergent
influent stimuli…

Lifelong corruption
to utter destruction –
beyond deconstruction
say live and let die.

Written by Jason Wright
November 28, 2018

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Unorthodox

The beast confessed drink
is poured toward successful.

The greased suppressed wink
is abhorred and disheveled.

The least caressed kink
is a sore spot for several.

The priest dressed in pink
is a whore for the devil.

Written by Jason Wright
November 28, 2018

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